AN IRISH AIRMAN FORESEES HIS DEATH
                       - William Butler Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

I post this today in honor of my friend Nick Collier, an Irishman who came and fought in another country's war when he was very young. Fortuitous, that it should appear in my Poem A Day book, the day after a reunion with Nick last night, when we talked about his service and about Yeats.  Respect to you, my friend. 🍷